At Home in Holland -- Rotterdam, Holland

I'm starting this post from a new cafe.

The Coffee Company in Rotterdam, Holland.

Its lamps are modern, metal and stylish. Its chairs are leather and the colors of the walls are white and beige, sparsely decorated with small, abstract paintings.

Sleek. 

It's quieter than the Alsur Cafe in Barcelona. More expensive. Better English and less flirtatious waiters.

"We're not over the top in Holland. We have a saying here. 'Life is crazy enough, so just be normal,'" Maud told me as we sipped white wine at yesterday's picnic. 

Faster internet and bigger coffee cups.

Mmm...I approve of these cups.

After fifteen months of movement, you start to get tired. You start to think, "why am I doing this again? What's so exciting about travel, anyway? You know what is exciting? Sleeping in the same bed for more than a month. Yessss... that's exciting."

And then I have perfect days like yesterday.

Days that make me want to move forever.

(because who knows all the other places where I could be having perfect days?)

Once again, my flight was drama-free. Perhaps this is because I'm getting better at airports or perhaps airports are just getting better.

(I have a feeling it's the latter)

Eduard and his elderly puppy (black labs are perpetual puppies) walked me to the bus yesterday morning. I handed over my six euros and took a seat near the back.

Barcelona. I really enjoyed you -- in spite of the piss and shit covering your streets, the heat and the moments of discomfort with hosts. You're a city with such unique energy. Such creative, vivacious residents. Everyone who lives here loves you. People don't just stay here because they were born in the vicinity and have roots -- people live here because they love you. 

The flight was so simple that I have no stories.

It was rather bizarre to sit down at the gate for my flight and suddenly find myself surrounded by people who were significantly taller than me.

Yup. This must be the gate to Rotterdam. Girl be going to the land of cheese, windmills, clogs and blond giants. How's that for stereotypes? 

My tall blond met me at Rotterdam's tiny airport, wearing an ear-to-ear smile and a flirty pink skirt that made her look like a cheeky fox.

Ellie and I attacked her with an awkward hug (as hugs with Ellie tend to be).

"It's so cool! Ah.... this is my temperature," I exclaimed as we stepped outside the terminal and the brisk air of the soft day brushed my skin. "Hello, Holland! God, am I happy to see you."

We drove off to the city forest and walked around the lake until we found the perfect view.

"My goodness, Maud -- this picnic puts all my others to shame! What did you pack?"

Two different kinds of yogurt.

Two different kinds of honey.

Two different kinds of peanut butter.

A gigantic, colorful fruit salad.

South African white wine.

(and no bowls. Hippie points. I ate out of a Tupperware lid and Maud ate out of her wine glass. I think I deserve more hippie points.)

Dutch people do not mess around with picnics.

Scenic old people!

Rotterdam. This city was completely destroyed by the Germans in WWII and was reconstructed in the 1950s. In contrast to Munich (which was rebuilt stone for stone), Rotterdam was remodeled as well as rebuilt. Skyscrapers replaced the more traditional buildings and this city of 600,000 is now one of Holland's most modern cities.

Barcelona is a city for skateboarders. Rotterdam is (surprise!) a city for bikers. "If you hit a bike, it's your fault. Doesn't matter how -- it's always your fault," Maud told me as a biker carelessly sped in front of her.

I will be seeing many of these in the next few days...

Do not park illegally in Holland. Parking in the "forest" was free when Maud was there last, so she didn't bother to check if there was a fee.

When we returned from our picnic, there was a small ticket tucked underneath her windshield wiper.

"Shit..." Maud grabbed the slip.

"How much is it?" I asked, expecting the sum would be in the neighborhood of ten euros. In Colorado, it's common to be fined 10-15 dollars; and we were parked in the forest for the love of Slovenian Jesus. How much could it be?

"60 euros."

"Whaaaa?"

"Yeah."

"Christ!"

Moral of the story: Always check for parking meters in Rotterdam. Even when picnicking in the forest.

Maud drove us the thirty minutes to her home just outside of Rotterdam, and we giggled and chatted the whole way.

It felt good to have a history with someone. To feel so entirely at ease.

She introduced me to her orange cat named Gizmo (whom I've given an Irish accent), the fridge (filled with cheese), the toilet (Dutch toilets are like bird perches. They're so high up that your feet don't touch the floor. Perhaps this is because I'm short and all Dutch people are tall, or perhaps this because Dutch people enjoy the sensation of perching while they poo) and my bedroom.

My bed had two pillows.

"One is soft and one is hard. You can pick which one you like," Maud fluffed the soft pillow for me.

"I just... wow. Maud, it's been so long since I've been able to choose what kind of pillow I want. This is so nice. I think I'll use the soft one for my head and cuddle with the harder one. Ah. Choices!"

My friend had placed stacks of folded clothes atop the bed spread.

"You can pick some of these, if you want."

To seal my welcome to Holland, she had placed a box of windmill chocolates on top of the firmer pillow.

You wish you had a friend like Maud.

I almost cried so many times yesterday.

I felt so wanted.

So welcome.

So at home.

The rest of the day...

I was introduced to strange canned meat with the texture of tofu and the taste of... umm? 

(quite popular in Holland, apparently)
 

A sort of lemonade cordial with tomato. Most people drink it cold, but Maud drinks it warm.

"I want it the way you like it," I told my host as she added water to the syrup.

"Are you sure? No one likes it warm. They all think I'm crazy."

"When no one likes something, I tend to love it. I immediately adore the "acquired taste" foods."

Was shown Maud's new book.

Yes.

My friend is a published author. This is her second book for kids. Her third book will be published in October.

I was feeling antsy, so we went on a brief walk before dinner (I was nearly destroyed by scooters whizzing past on the sidewalk several times. This is legal in Holland). As we ambled along the intermittently peaceful, sometimes deadly sidewalk, I tried to pronounce the names of the roads. My friend was amused and delighted by how impressively I managed to butcher her language. But you try saying something like, "Voetbalvereniging"

Is it dead now? 

Bet it is.

This is where Maud runs.

It's very romantic.

I slept like a pineapple last night.

It's been a long time since I've slept like a pineapple.

mmm.... 11 days of pineapple relaxation with soft pillows, hard pillows, a cute cat, my hot dutch friend and two different kinds of peanut butter. This. This is the perfect way to end European adventure #2.